ICYMI, Part II

'It may yet turn out that racial differences are not as basic as questions of money and power, but have served a useful purpose, often in the interest of those who deployed them most, in keeping us divided and so relatively poor and powerless. This having been said, however, the narrative voice in this story here remains that of a smart - assed jerk who didn't know any better, and I apologize for it.'

-Thomas Pynchon-

I don't carry a recording device behind my zipper, but I have been known to retain the minutae of anxiety ridden/traumatic experiences for longer than I should. I carry the almond of my limbic system with a defensive grip, my amygdala is made of cast iron. I'm always cooking up schemes to quench my thirst for retribution. I don't do well in public forums and can smell search lights/ interrogation tactics; is this a legit injury or a work angle in the match? 

The concept of proof is in the skin flakes from new burns, while the burden of proof stems from old scratching episodes.

If this sounds convincing enough, I can safely say everything is true. I'm apologetic on May 11th sitting in the waiting room for my Neurology appointment. I noticed I haven't been writing or painting as much with the mounting grievances against mother nature, the scales of justice, my personal demons and the disorder of my appointment schedule. Wrestling, sex, marijuana, I'd recently picked up a copy of Thomas Pynchon's Slow Learner and after reading the introduction, lost my place among the annals of ambulance bills, court summons and a notebook that would never see the light of a full day; fragmented truths, the fruit of fruitless endeavors, I had to check myself. 

I finally reached out to someone who had more experience with sacrifice and the fractured sequences of inspiration and manifestation.

Makayla Armijo-Trujillo has never held back when it comes to discussing obstacles/hurdles that more or less serve as a balance beam. Over the years, I had several questions for her while she worked at Kleft Jaw Press.

FM: What are the most significant changes you've seen in your art and writing while dealing with the fluctuating nature of having a chronic illness? Do you feel like the term 'disabled' bares any weight on your creative output?

Makayla Armijo-Trujillo: "Well, when I was first diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis at the age of 20, it really was a shock to the system. I’d been drawing and writing since childhood and art was always such a huge part of my identity. For me, art was like breathing; something you do everyday that doesn’t always seem precious but is actually life sustaining. 

When you have a chronic illness that comes on suddenly and can be incredibly debilitating for short or long periods, survival mode kicks in and the daily affirmation of creating art is replaced by finding a way to walk from one room to another without falling or being able to withstand crippling pain just to lift a spoon to my face and eat a meal. That’s a terrifying feeling for anyone. I felt like my entire personhood was taken away, let alone my ability to draw. 

The emotional and mental toll was even greater than the physical. With time and medical assistance I was able to control my symptoms for long stretches. And by then, the psychological impact of having a chronic illness was showing up in my sketchbook every time my fingers weren’t too swollen to draw. It was a new source of identity, an identity that I wasn’t ready to fully accept at the time. Drawing really helped me navigate the fear and shame of my personal experience with becoming disabled and my relationship to my body. 

The term “disabled” is not the shameful word we’ve been conditioned to believe it is. However, internalizing the neutrality of that word has been hard won. I did everything in my power to minimize my pain and hide my reality from my peers for many years. If it was bad enough to require a cane (which I have used intermittently since diagnosis), I would stay home so no one could see it. The truth is, my art and my disability influence each other continuously. 

Accepting and integrating my disability as part of who I am has been great for my creativity and identity. It’s actually given me permission to slow down, rest, and make art for joy or therapy rather than to pressure myself into continually chasing a potential masterpiece. It’s also made me realize that while I have and will always love drawing and painting and writing, I haven’t always exclusively done it for me. Any sort of talent begets attention. And part of the inability to draw came with the inability to impress others. I had always been an art star growing up and I felt pretty worthless when that part of my identity ceased. That was something that I didn’t know I had been relying on for self esteem for a long time.

Disability has also forced me to reckon with extreme uncertainty. Can I plan ahead with the looming possibility of a flare up, extreme fatigue, one of multiple infections from the immune suppressant drugs I rely on? This lifestyle has made me appreciate what I can do on any given day, instead of constantly focusing on what I can’t do. (Whether it be in art or any other part of my life.)

I’m grateful for whatever I am capable of on any given day. And I’m just as happy and proud to be part of the disability community as I am to be an artist. 

Also, FUCK AI 😊."